


Hermit in the Woods

by grandfatherclock



Series: Fire Hermit [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Community: widojest love, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandfatherclock/pseuds/grandfatherclock
Summary: Jester meets a strange fiery being in the forest surrounding Nicodranas, and is desperate enough to seek his help.





	Hermit in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkevilbob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkevilbob/gifts).



> This fic is for the Widojest Week prompt FIRE & ICE.

Jester Lavorre _scowls_ , grimacing at the sound of her brown boots squelching against the mud. _Merde_ , she thinks, clenching her jaw. They’re fucking _drenched_ , and she can _feel_ the water against her socks, _feel_ that wetness make her yellow dress slick against her body, her hair limp against the curves of her face. It’s _cold_ , and she’s _shivering_ , and she’s fucking _lost in the woods_ _in the middle of a rainstorm._

Jester pauses, staring at the rock in front of her with astonishment. _Fuck the Traveler_ , she’s _seen_ it before, she’s going in _circles_ , she knew it! Jester cannot _believe_ she allowed herself to wander off the dirt path to follow those pretty butterflies, trying to catch their designs to sketch into her book to show Nugget later. Mama will be so _disappointed_ , she didn’t even get the _firewood_ she was supposed to…

Her heart drops as she thinks about her mother. _Gods_ , she’s going to be worried _sick_ —and never trust Jester to do the most basic task again. Jester crosses her arms, hating the feeling of the damp cloth move with her skin and blinking back tears. _Sorry_ , she thinks, miserably. _Je suis désolée, I swear I want to be helpful, I swear I’m a good daughter, I swear, I swear, I_ —

Jester _swears_ as she trips on an exposed tree root, and looks down at the mud smeared against her patterned dress. She sits on the ground for a moment, trying to even out her shaky breath, trying not to fucking _cry_ , trying not to shout obscenities at the pouring rain smattering against her, against her bag, when she finally _sees_ that… that _cave_.

Her eyes widen and she gets up, biting the inside of her cheek as she approaches. There’s a orange hue against the exposed wall of the interior, this trembling flickering that comes from _fire_ — _warmth, heat, society_ , Jester thinks giddily—and she walks forward, pausing by the entrance and tilting her head. “ _Hello_?” she says, and her voice echoes. Despite the situation, Jester giggles _._ “Oh, _wow_ , this is _really_ cool, though!” She imagines Mama’s operatic voice would be _enchanting_ in here. Her notes would blend into each other, making her seem even _more_ ethereal to her lovelorn visitors.

The thoughts of Mama make her sick to her stomach, and she exhales through her teeth. She feels so _slight_ and so _stupid_ right now—Blude asked her to do a simple _fucking_ task, and now here she is, drawing attention to herself to a strange hermit who lives in the middle of the woods behind Nicodranas. _Merde_ , Jester _hopes_ he isn’t a fucking axe murderer or something. “ _Please_ ,” she says, and she walks in, her shoulders relaxing slightly now that water wasn’t being pelted down at her. She walks along the curving wall, noticing pretty etchings. They’re symbols she doesn’t quite recognize—mathematical and scientific, and Jester _hates_ math, prefers when she’s tutored in art or literature—but there’s a passionate… _way_ to them. They’re drawn carefully, almost _burnt_ into the stone, the engravings thick and blackened and strange.

Jester hears footfalls, and feels _heat_ , and _turns_ , her mouth open to express thanks and apologies for intruding on this person’s peace, _when—_

Holy _fuck_. He’s a _man_ , and he’s wearing a simple white shirt and black trousers. He’s got this pretty scruff to his face, and his hair is this nice red, and _normally_ , this is when Jester flushes and stammers and peppers compliments, but… but… 

“Ah,” he says, his voice low and accented and kind of _hot_. He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. Jester watches the flames licking at his arms follow his movement, stares at those blackened fingertips amidst the red. His lips curve into an almost apologetic smile, but his jaw is tense like he’s waiting for her to scream or swear or run away. “As you can see, I’m on fire.”

He _is_. He really _is_. The flames curl around him prettily, and they illuminate his pale face. The orange-red-yellow glow of the embers reflect brilliantly in his pale blue eyes that are studying her. He crosses his arms, and his jaw shifts as he watches her stare at him, her mouth slightly open. Jester flushes— _ah, there it is,_ she thinks pleasantly to herself, _become a fool in front of a beautiful man, stay classy, Lavorre_ —and she clears her throat, reaching out her hand to the man on fire. “Hi,” she says, her voice bright. She smiles at him shyly. “My name’s _Jester_.”

“… Caleb,” the man says, after a pause. Jester cocks her head at his foreign, Zemnian voice—it isn’t _often_ she catches Dwendalians here in Nicodranas, but she… kind of loves how rough and lilting he sounds. Caleb looks at her, at her drenched, muddied dress and her ruined boots, and Jester feels her brown skin around her cheeks and neck become even darker. “Caleb Widogast.”

“… I like your name,” Jester offers, running a hand through her hair and wincing as she feels the wetness there. She can _feel_ her body straining to get close to Caleb, get close to that _heat_ , but as she steps forward, he steps _back_ , hands up almost _defensively_. “Sorry!” Her voice is _mortified_ , and she looks down, bunching the wet cloth of her dress in her hands. “Sometimes I get close, I don’t—”

“Oh, I didn’t—” Caleb cuts himself off, and winces. “Just… don’t get too close, ja?” Jester nods miserably, and Caleb exhales through his teeth, rubbing his neck. The flames cascade all around him, and Jester thinks he’s a little like a candle in one of the Chateau’s elaborate chandeliers, twinkling and perfect. “… I’m not used to people coming close,” he admits, and he sighs, looking at her with a considering gaze. “Most are startled and run far, far away.” His voice is matter-of-fact, not upset in the least for himself, and it’s… kind of really sad.

“Well.” Jester puts her hands on her waist and looks at him assertively. “Most people are _dicks_.” Caleb _stares_ at her, and she beams at him. “You’re _so cool_ , though, I’ve met boys that are _hot_ but not _literally on fire_ , you know? Did you carve into these walls?”

Caleb _blinks_ , and then, still watching her, he raises an arm and trails a finger against the rock of the cave, pressing in. Jester watches with delight as he carves her name into the rock, the fire flicking around his finger making the rock malleable like clay to his touch. A neat _Jester_ appears against that brown, the letters etched in black, and Jester _giggles_ , clasping her hands together. “Ja,” he murmurs. “Not… not much to do, when you’re a man on fire in the middle of the woods.” She watches his neck turn slightly pink as she stares at him.

“That’s _amazing_.” He averts his gaze at her compliment, one hand reaching out to absentmindedly rub his other arm. Jester spies bandages along his forearms under the white shirt that’s rolled up to his elbows, and Caleb notices her looking at them, stiffening. She widens her smile, trying to think frantically of a way to make this _not_ confrontational. “Can you draw a _smiley face_?”

Caleb stills at that, and Jester _curses_ in her head as that fucking smile plays on her face. _Fuck_ , he’s probably _really smart_ with all these equations and symbols and shit, why is she asking him to draw a _smiley face?_ Gods, she’s… childish and stupid, and shouldn’t have been trusted to find some _fucking_ firewood—she lost her axe, and then the wood became all soaked and muddy when she stumbled, and she had to _abandon it_ —

Jester’s furious thought process is interrupted as Caleb’s fiery arm reaches out again, and draws a neat, perfectly symmetrical smiley face. Jester stares at it beside her name amongst all the other equations, and the corner of her lips tug into a smile. “Thank you,” she says, softly. “That’s _really cool_ , Cayleb.”

Caleb tilts his head, and Jester watches how the fire engulfing him follows his little movements. “… Danke,” he says, and then turns, gesturing for her to follow down this tunnel. “You’re soaked, I have something for that.”

Jester scrambles behind him, noticing how all the rocks are neatly cleared out. Wherever Caleb goes, the cave’s dark interior walls are lit, and she can pretty calculations, words in other languages—Common, Zemnian, others she can’t recognize, that seem a little extraordinary, that are a little out of this world—and her smile widens as they come up into where the tunnel broadens out, into this little room. It’s mostly empty, but there’s a little campfire in the middle. Jester comes up close, craving the heat, and tilts her head as she realizes she doesn’t smell the wood _burning_. It remains perfect engulfed in the fire—kind of like Caleb—and she looks to him, her eyes curious.

Caleb averts his gaze, and points to the pack in the corner. It looks _old_ , kind of dusty, and he sighs, crossing his arms and leaning against the entrance of the room. Jester watches the wall slowly become slightly malleable as he does, but the area is already blackened. _He must lean there a lot_ , she reasons. “Clothes,” Caleb says. “I haven’t… touched that bag in many years, but you’re welcome to it.”

“Thank you,” Jester says, eyes wide and earnest. She wants to make _sure_ Caleb knows how grateful she is, and after she holds his gaze for several seconds, he flushes and shifts his jaw, seeming uncomfortable with the attention she’s giving him. Jester smiles and skips to the bag, opening it and looking through. There’s a brown shirt and black pants, and she hears footfalls as Caleb begins to walk out the room to give her some privacy. Jester stares after him for a moment, and then brings the clothes to her nose, smelling. _Ink_ , and _incense_. Her smile widens, and she pulls off her wet dress, wincing as the cloth slides against her skin. His garments are too big, but Jester folds up the sleeves to her elbows and the pant legs. Her shoes are kind of disgusting, and she sighs, ripping out a strip of her dress cloth to begin cleaning them out. 

Jester hears footfalls after about ten minutes, and perks up from where she’s put the boots and dress near the strange, ethereal fire. “Cayleb?” she asks, pulling out her hair from her bun and frowning at the wet hair tie.

“Have you changed?” he asks, from the tunnel.

“Yeah,” she beams. “I look _really cute_ in your clothes, you should _see_.” She blushes with mortification as those words leave her lips, but Caleb smiles as he walks back into the room and sits… not _close_ to her, but Jester suspects as close as he can manage without burning her. He keeps his arms crossed, and his eyes are bright as he gazes to her.

“You look nice,” Caleb agrees. “Better than me.”

“You look _so great_ , though!” Jester grins. “The fire lights up your face _really well_ , you know?” Caleb flushes pink and looks to the ethereal fire, seeming to curl into himself even more, and Jester tilts her head. “And your blue eyes are _so pretty_ when they’re reflecting that hue the light gives off.”

“… Oh, Jester,” he says, exhaling and playing with a loose thread in his shirt.

“And your _accent_ is so _nice_ , I love _listening_ to you.” Jester’s own freckled face darkens, and she clenches her hands into fists, nervous despite herself. As far as hermits in the woods go, she’s _real lucky_ she ran into Caleb and not _other_ some awful asshole.

“I like listening to you too,” he says, after a moment. His voice is halting but not ingenuine. “Listen… Jester, you don’t… you don’t have to.”

Jester furrows her eyebrows. “Have to _what_ , Cayleb?”

He sighs, and gives her a weak smile. “Don’t have to flatter me, I’ll let you stay here until the storm subsides.” He sounds a little distant, a little off-kilter, and Jester watches his hand reach out and absentmindedly rub his bandaged arm, stares at his jaw shift and tense. The firelight makes the angles of his face seem _sharper_ , and though some of his face glows, the rest seems hidden in shadow. “I won’t hurt you.” His eyes flit to her, and there’s something in his voice, like he’s desperate she believe him.

“I _know_ ,” she says, and then grimaces. “Well, I don’t _know_ , you could be _pretending_ to be nice and then _fuck me up_ and, you know, hurt me, but like… I don’t _think_ you’ll do that, though?” She gives him a gentle smile.

Caleb stares at her for a moment, and then shakes his head. “People pretend to be nice and then fuck you up all the time, Jester.” He sounds a little sad, and a little… a little _endeared_ , despite himself. “Don’t… please be careful, you sound like a good person.”

Jester bites her lip, hating the hot flash of anger she feels at his unsolicited fucking life advice. _Naive, an airhead, a fuckup_ … it _stings_ to hear that validated in this man’s gentle face. “Ja, well.” He raises an eyebrow at her use of Zemnian. “Maybe more people should be _less_ careful. Then you wouldn’t be so lonely.” Caleb stares at her, and she raises her eyebrows.

“Maybe I _should_ be alone,” he counters, and he’s no longer curled into himself. Caleb’s eyes are bright, and _engaged_ , and Jester’s smile widens. _Hello, Caleb Widogast_ , she thinks. _Really nice to finally meet you_. “Maybe there’s a _reason_ I’m a fiery hermit that lives in the woods.”

Jester keeps that even smile on her face. “Is it because you hurt _someone_ , or someone hurt _you_?” Caleb stiffens, and Jester can _feel_ his heat rising, _see_ the flames around him become bigger, more dangerous. She forces herself to not flinch, and Caleb takes shaky breaths, clearly trying to calm himself down. His hands dig into his bandaged arms, and Jester looks to him apologetically. “ _Hey_.” He looks to her, seeming almost _frightened_ , and she raises her hands. “I’m _sorry_ , I push too much.” She bites the inside of her cheek and looks to the ground. “I’m too curious, I don’t… curiosity killed the cat.” She laughs anxiously, running a hand through her hair. It’s drying out now, less clumpy in her fingers.

Caleb stares at her for a moment, blinking and then shaking his head to himself. “Satisfaction brought it back,” he murmurs, sounding a little lost. Jester raises an eyebrow at him curiously, and he gives her a weak smile. “Satisfaction brought the cat back, Lavorre. I don’t… I like that you’re curious. I’m just… you won’t think I’m, ah. _Very cool_ , if you know more about me.” Jester looks at him skeptically, and he sighs. “Please, Jester, I don’t…”

“Lavorre,” she says, after a moment. Caleb looks to her with surprise, and she smiles. “I wasn’t gonna tell you my name because it’s _secret_ and you’re a _stranger_ but… my last name’s Lavorre, and I think you’re _so cool_ , and I… _want_ to know more about you, Cayleb.” His jaw shifts as she says his name, and her hands bunch up the cloth from the trousers she’s wearing. “Just… tell me about your friends, or something? Do you have a pet? How’s life, you know?” She flushes with embarrassment.

“… I don’t have friends,” he says, slowly, and then he grimaces. “Well, sometimes a woman visits me. Her name is Veth. She’s short and has buttons in her dress, and she’s amazing with a crossbow.” His words are tinged with admiration, and his fire seems gentler when he talks about this woman, his face softer. His eyes glitter, and Jester puts her hands on her face as he talks. “She’s curious like you, like a…” He pauses, searching for the right word in Common. “Like a _detective_ , you know?”

“That’s _amazing_ ,” she says. “What about _pets_?”

He smirks. “What about _you_ , Lavorre?” _Oh,_ that’s—no pun intended—fucking _hot_. Yeah, telling him her last name was a fucking _great_ idea, she’s very pleased. “You got a pet?”

“Nugget,” she says, sighing as she thinks of her large dog. “Oh _no_ , Cayleb, he’s gonna miss me _so much_ , I am a _terrible_ Mama.” She pouts. “Maybe… maybe Mama was right, maybe I’m not… if I can’t get some _firewood_ , maybe I should, you know… maybe I’m not _responsible_ enough.” Her face burns, and she’s… she’s fucking _blinking back tears_ , how _stupid_.

“Hey,” Caleb says, gently. “There’s a map in my pack. You can have it, it would just burn at my touch. As soon as the storm subsides, you can come home to… to Nugget, and your mother. I’m sure they’re glad to see you. Family’s more… more important than firewood.”

“I just wanted to show I could be taken seriously,” she mutters, crossing her arms. Caleb looks to her toned, freckled biceps for a moment, his face flushing slightly, and she would smirk if she didn’t feel so _fucking_ miserable.

“I think you can be taken seriously,” he says. “And I… I admire your bravery and curiosity, Lavorre.” She raises her head and stares at him, and his lips pull into a hesitant smile after a heated moment where their gazes meet. “Satisfaction _brought the cat back, Lavorre_.” He barks out this bitter half-laugh. “My cat’s name is Frumpkin.” Jester sits up, excited, and he exhales through his teeth. “He comes and goes. I miss him when he goes.”

“I _love_ cats,” she giggled. “I _thought_ you’d like cats, you have a _crazy cat lady_ vibe, you know?” She gestures to all of him, and he actually laughs again, and this time it’s noticeably less bitter. “Like, you look like someone who _should_ have a cat around his neck.”

“Like a scarf,” he agrees. “ _Crazy cat lady_.” He shakes his head at her, his lips quirking up.

Jester _grins_ , and they both… they both smile at each other. They begin to pull details out from each other through questions as Jester cleans her shoes. He admits to having a past girlfriend who was Jester’s height, and it makes Jester _flush_. She even shows him her sketchbook, waiting for the judgement when she reveals how she got lost. It never comes, and he looks at her with delight. _You’re so talented_.

_Oh, well, you know, I’m pretty great._ Her skin gets darker, and she wants to hide in the shirt she’s wearing.

_Ja._ His voice is thick with admiration and it makes her smile wider and wider.

The storm continues for another half hour or so, and Jester is almost… almost _disappointed_ when she hears the rain slow down, hears birds chirping and sees Caleb gesturing to his pack. His shoulders are too relaxed, and Jester realizes… he’s a little disappointed _too_. He _wants_ Jester around, even as he’s giving her broad instructions on how to make it back to the dirt trail she was following earlier. “… And remember to take that _right_ , when you see that large crooked tree.” He furrows his eyebrows at her considering expression on him. “What did I just say, Lavorre?”

Jester looks to the map she found in his old pack, and traces her thumb over the name on it. _Astrid_. She wants to ask desperately, but… no. Not today. She won’t ask the man on fire _today_ why he’s on fire. “Right at the large crooked tree,” she says obediently. He smiles in approval, and Jester _beams_ back at him. “ _Thank you, Cayleb_.”

He runs a hand over his arm, seeming startled by her enthusiasm. “No… no issue.” His voice is quiet. “Have a nice life, I suppose.” He looks back to his wall of equations, his movement stiff and awkward, and Jester stares at him for a moment before sighing heavily, causing him to look back at her.

“I’ll come _back_ , Cayleb,” she says. “And you know I would _hug_ you if I could _touch_ you, right?”

He looks at her, a little surprised. “You don’t… you don’t have to come back, Jester.” His voice is kind. “Please, I… I enjoyed our time together, but you must have so many people to… to spend time with. I don’t want you getting lost or hurt, or… or…” His voice trails off, and he runs a hand through his hair, looking a little miserable.

Jester looks down at her clean boots. “I don’t really,” she says, quietly. She sees Caleb tilt his head at her from the corner of her eye, and quirks her lips up, averting her gaze determinedly. “I don’t have a lot of… a lot of people who like…” Jester has no idea how to explain what she’s thinking, how to say that plenty of people like her, but not… not her curiosity. Not how she tends to get herself mixed up in trouble and mischief. Not many people who tell her _satisfaction brought the cat back, Lavorre._ “I’ll see you, Cayleb,” she says, “I promise.” Jester finally looks up, and beams at him. “And _besides_ , you’re _so_ cautious, you should know not _everyone_ you see will fuck you up.”

“That isn’t what I’m—” Caleb cuts himself off, and Jester thinks she knows what’s on the tip of _his_ tongue. _That isn’t what scares me, Lavorre_. His shoulder slump. “… Goodbye, Madame Lavorre.”

Jester smiles, fucking _seethes_ internally that she can’t hug this man who looks like he _needs_ a good hug—and honestly, she could use a fucking hug _too_ —and waves as she exits the cave, holding the map with her other hand. She waves until she can no longer see him, can no longer spot him glowing like a candle in the darkness of the cave, this pretty little light alone in the woods, tense and distant until he _wasn’t_. Until Jester made him laugh and respected that he didn’t want to talk about the _fire_ , about what made him this way.

She exhales, finally seeing that large crooked tree. Ravens sit there, watching her curiously, and Jester smiles, pulling out her sketchbook and drawing _quickly_ , sketching out their general structure before shoving her book into her bag. _Caleb_ didn’t laugh when she admitted how she got lost, and his eyes fucking _gleamed_ when he leaned over carefully to stare at her art, making sure his flames never touched her. He didn’t… there was forgiveness in his eyes, forgiveness at how _lacking_ she could be, and Jester… Jester needed that. Needs that. Wanting to find him again, wanting to sketch out Nicodranas for his eyes, isn’t completely unselfish.

Jester finally stumbles onto the dirt trail, and looks to where she can see distant lantern lights. Her eyes widen, and she raises her hands into fists into the air in victory, _laughing_ at the woods around her. “Ha, I’m _free_ ,” she crows. She looks back where she came, to the cave that’s no longer visible. “Danke,” she murmurs to the hermit in the woods. 

Jester Lavorre stares for a moment longer, and then continues racing up the path.


End file.
